I'm kind of freaking out
Arizona is sleeping with another man in a cigarette based bedroom
there is still liquor in my pupil'd eyes
the oh great AM insomniac lamp
is dusty
with someone else’s fingerprints
on her *******
i reached for the moon
and only felt snow
the books are staring at me
not saying a word
my breath is thick
i'm out of cigarettes
I've got a few dollar bills
I'll buy coffee and ink pens to keep me up
i need to keep track of the phases of the moon
its 56 degrees
wearing only a sweater
I'm freaking out
Winter may never end
I may not be able to leap from the ceiling
i can't stand up
or grow a beard
i'm slightly insane
or slightly sane
i'm still figuring out how she walks
and the road signs
leading to mexico
i must be crazy
mimicking the speech impediments of the walls

to person #4:
you told me that your tear ducts were broken
as we sat in a diner while the morning turned pale.
isn't that somehow worse?
sadness without tears
is like art without paint.
i like you
because my cheeks and my feet
are so often dripping with blue acrylic,
so much so
that i can't tell when they're dry.

Dedicated to Bobby Trice, Willem Cole Traupel, and Haley Ristow*

Spilled sodas
and spilled hearts.
Smoked cigarettes
and smoked days.

The snow has ceased falling, and my mood has continued climbing.
What used to be a dark shade of orange, an orange haze,
is now a light, gentle shade of white.
Crisp and clear.

And as I shoveled the drive way,
I thought of the less than extraordinary Sunday
and how extraordinary it was.

And as I looked into my cigarette pack, finding it empty,
I remembered a quote the director of our school play had said
"Do not cry because it's over, smile because it happened"
And I guess it's silly to think of a pack of Organic American Spirits in the same shade of white that others think of a school play.
Maybe it's not so much the cigarettes but the people I shared them with.
The people I love.
My bestfriends.

dissect me into pieces
mathematical
manic
make me
make sense
solve the pieces
like a puzzle
break me
then make me
intact
but I'm not built
of numbers and facts
when you filed my edges
you created gaps

Love like water is dripping in
steaming up
filling the cracks and freezing
pushing things apart
making space for us to
be together

I must be stealing these feelings from angels
a light this bright must be blinding
but at this angle
my eyes aren't hiding
and I can see you smiling

Love like fire is burning
and turning over
sheets of clover and a bed of moss
made flames and tamed to ashes
by eye lashes

Radiant Moister
Soaking Heat
Light in your Eyes
Smoke under your Feet

these are the things make you feel complete
that make you want to dance with me
so dance with me

4 o'clock blues
soften the edge of inspiration
dull the blade
I use
to shave off the sadness

for your thoughts
for your wishes
for our distance
for your kisses
for clichés
for the comfort
for 365 days
for many more
for silly honesty
for seasons slipping by
a dozen, bright red roses
for a love that keeps us
high

When I looked into the crystal ball
hoping to see my future
I saw only my face, twisted and swirled out of proportion.
And at first I thought maybe it's not the right kind of crystal
or maybe there is no way to see the future
but then I thought maybe there is.
Maybe I did see the future.
And I'm just too scared to realize it.

Last night,
I lost myself.
I became twisted and swirled.
As the smoke came out of my lungs so did my convictions.

As the hash burned gently in the hookah
the snow fell gently from the sky.
As the laughter poured heavily from our hearts,
the general disbelief fell heavily from our heads.

And as I looked into the crystal ball,
I laughed.
I knew the ball was really like water,
always changing, always shifting.
And just like water, it refracts light in strange ways.

frantic
hands ripping through air
reaching for a grasp
on your sadness

I have been
will be
am
enraptured in your temperature.
contented in contempt
for your fairytale past
impossible
to impact

yet coveting the forbidden
taste
of imprints
in your reality
sparks a dorment sentiment
of such coarse,
rough reciprocity

tempting taste of your bliss
come close
and through shifting smoke
we can descend into
crude togetherness